


Always Watching

by tmwillson3



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Feels, Force Bond (Star Wars), Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 05:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14206365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmwillson3/pseuds/tmwillson3
Summary: Post TLJ. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is restless, not at peace. Nothing is going as it should, until he finds a way to slip into Rey's open mind. There, he finds a sense of peace in watching the daily movements of Rey. And, every so often, he passes on memories to her. To guide her, support her, and to convince her that she shouldn't shut him out. As with anything else involving the Force and Rey, he gets more than he bargained for.





	Always Watching

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Disclaimer: No, I don't own Star Wars or anything else I reference. 
> 
> This is a one-shot inspired by a gif on Facebook that is part of the ReyLo Fic Recs group Drabble Me This prompts, for last week. It was a bad writing week last week, but the gif was fantastic. It is created by sparklepoodles on tumblr. The gif has some stalker feels to it, which I explore here. I left it open at the end to continue it if I thought of something else, but right now, it's staying as a one-shot. I wanted to focus on stalker Kylo, but I love my feels. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren had finally found peace, in the last place he expected - in the everyday movements of the woman who had spurned him, Rey.

 

After a month of silence and a cut-off Force connection from her, he was determined not to be the first one to seek her out. He was stronger than this weakness.

 

Within three months, the chaos around him was swallowing him up. Hux was plotting a mutiny. The Resistance was said to be gaining ground and more support. There was talk of more non-conforming Stormtroopers. His plans for the galaxy weren't happening like he thought they would. 

 

He needed to escape all of it, if only for a short time.

 

Training didn't help anymore. He channeled his anger, and he destroyed countless droids in the process. Hux was complaining to him about costs because of it.

 

There was no peace within him. He was still torn, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Meditation didn't work for long because he was always being interrupted.

 

Then, one day, everything changed.

 

He saw  _ her. _

 

She was reading something old. For some reason, it made her think of him. When he peered down, he realized that they were the ancient Jedi texts from Luke before he died.

 

Some part of Kylo relished that she had thought of him. He maintained that open line between them for another hour before he had to leave her, duty calling yet again.

 

When he got to the brief, though, he was surprisingly calm. 

 

He purposefully thought about her the next day, early in the morning. It seemed to brush against her consciousness for a moment, and then she smiled. Then, she made her way to the training area.

 

He watched her work with her staff, and then her newly-constructed lightsaber. Drill upon drill she did, showing him her normal routine. 

 

She was so fierce, when she finally let loose at the end.

 

For a few days in a row, he came in at the same time to watch her train. On the fourth day, he made it a point to imagine a particular move he'd learned from Luke years ago. He remembered Luke clearly, hoping that she would recognize Luke and think nothing of the errant thought.

 

A different wide arc, followed by two swift kicks.

 

Rey stopped her end-of-the-routine blast session, confused. For a moment, she stood, trying to make sense of what she had just seen.

 

Then, she tried it. 

 

The next week, he watched during a different part of her day, evening. She meditated mostly, but she was among friends at meals.

 

Every embarrassing memory of Poe from growing up together with him was sent to her. It provided much amusement to him when she asked Poe about it.

 

In the afternoons another week, he watched her work on old x-wings. She scavenged old parts and installed them on the ships they had gathered.

 

They still had nothing. Their ragtag team was still nowhere as big as Hux claimed. He gathered his own intel on those days, keeping it to himself.

 

Suddenly, before he knew it, his life also had a routine. But, better than that, he felt at peace. 

 

He didn't Force-choke as many of his underlings. There wasn't a need. Something in him told him he needed to be a little more patient instead, especially as he imagined Rey’s frown and scathing words that he'd never get what he wanted that way. He tried restraining himself and waiting, and it worked.

 

There was something so inherently peaceful in watching Rey work, talk with her friends (after he realized that the traitor was not interested in Rey anymore), and more.

 

He grew less interested in destroying them. They could delude themselves all they wanted, but they were too small and battered to be dangerous.

 

He was far more interested in Rey's feelings. Her joy in her work, in finding parts and training (especially as he covertly taught her new moves). Her concern for her friends and the droids.

 

Her worry for his mother. 

 

When he saw his mother through Rey’s eyes the first time, he almost lost it. 

 

She was alive. Older and wearier, but alive.

 

More than that, though, Rey feared for her rapidly decreasing health. He took to finding old memories of his mother, just to buoy Rey up. 

 

He once let one of himself slip in there, holding Leia's hand on a hard day for her, which made Rey tense for a moment. She looked around, and then tapped her chin thoughtfully.

 

Then, she went and did the same to Leia.

 

It gave him hope. 

 

He let more involving himself slip in with his mother, until he finally tried it during her training hour. 

 

She didn't try that move, but she didn't reject the thought, either.

 

It was a few weeks later when he saw her perform the maneuver confidently.

 

He inserted more memories of himself regularly. He was becoming more confident, less careful.

 

She consumed his thoughts. He saw her, heard her voice, with each person he interacted with. Her push to show a little more mercy.

 

He didn't always listen to her, but sometimes, he did.

 

Then, he woke up on the day of his mother's birthday. Like he always was on her birthday, he was in a foul mood all day, his temper short and unable to be calmed down by Rey.

 

Thoughts of her had persisted that day surprisingly, but the pain, abandonment, and betrayal was too much. It always was on birthdays.

 

Finally in the comfort of his room, after telling everyone to leave him alone (which everyone intended to do) and having stripped into a loose black shirt, he decided to watch Rey for just a moment, to see if she could help now. 

 

He slid in comfortably and looked around as he always did.

 

She should have been eating. She was instead in her quarters, having just finished dressing by putting a larger, spotted jacket on over a dark shirt.

 

Now, she was applying cosmetics. He couldn't ever remember her wearing something like that or looking so nice.

 

She seemed even more beautiful than normal. He wanted to reach out and touch her. 

 

“Rey.”

 

Suddenly, the two were connected for the first time in nine months since Crait.

 

He wasn't sure what he was more surprised by: his clumsy weakness in speaking, opening the connection, or her willingness to be open to him.

 

The thoughtful, concerned look on Rey’s face melted into one of open-mouthed shock. 

 

She didn't seem tense. Just genuinely surprised.

 

“Ben-"

 

She recovered, and she was still using his old name. It still held its same seduction as it had whenever she said it.

 

It was one of his greatest sources of conflict.

 

All the same, she stopped herself before going further.

 

“What's wrong?” she asked with feeling, drawing closer to him at once.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked, unwilling to acknowledge the truth. He didn't know how she knew it. She shouldn't. His face was impassive, his demeanor aloof. 

 

“You know perfectly well what I'm trying to say,” she reproached him. “Don't be obtuse. Not now, when you're obviously in pain. You've….. blocked me out all day.”

 

He blinked rapidly, his mind working double time to understand. 

 

All those times he thought of her and dismissed her…. It wasn't his unconscious mind. It was her. 

 

Doing the same thing to him that he had been doing to her. 

 

“How did you know I was there? I was so careful,” he stated in defeat. 

 

His head tipped down. He couldn't face her. She must hate him even more. He had watched so much of her. He couldn't blame her for doing it to him in turn. 

 

Her two fingers reaching out, grasping his chin, sent his mind everywhere. They were warm, shocking his body into awareness, and making him feel dizzy. 

 

“We both did something we shouldn't have done. I didn't realize you were doing it until I saw you the first time, with the General, as a young boy. It was so tender, and not something she would think of.”

 

He tried to speak, but she stopped him, her grip tightening slightly.

 

“After that, I watched to see if you would do it again. You did. Then, I realized why the emptiness I'd felt for so many weeks had suddenly been banished. You were back. That comfortable feeling, that awareness, was you.”

 

She'd been lost and lonely, just like him.

 

“I wasn't sure why you were back or how, but I tried to make myself more aware. You showed me how, just as you have a habit of doing. I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry.”

 

She shrugged her shoulders with an awkward smile as she apologized. He shook his head. 

 

“You?” he cried, trembling. “No, you shouldn't. You're not the one who did it first. I should.”

 

That was the problem in all this. He should apologize, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He knew he would do it again.

 

Just as he started to draw into himself, she pulled him back, his name a soft whisper.

 

“Why are you hurting? Tell me. Let me help. You were there for me when I needed you most. Please.”

 

He had felt her concern for droids, her friends, and for his mother. This worry she felt for him, though, was more visceral and powerful than all of those put together. It staggered him to feel that.

 

All she wanted was to take away his pain. 

 

“I'm upset most likely for the same reason you're dressed up,” he replied. 

 

“Leia,” she breathed. “Of course.”

 

Her worry subsided a little, but her concern was still smothering him. It wasn't pity, though. Had it been that, he would have left.

 

She reached out for his hand with her other free hand. He found himself removing his glove, just like before, and then interlocking his hand with hers in a death grip, afraid to lose her again.

 

She held on tight to him, her presence giving all the strength and comfort he needed. Eventually, they tipped their foreheads forward until they touched there as well.

 

For a long time, they stood in silence, their bodies connected once more. 

 

Finally, a beeping noise from Rey’s desk woke them up.

 

“Do you want me to stay with you?” she asked gently. “I don't have to go.”

 

“No, you should go. I'm…. Better now,” he said unevenly. 

 

He did feel better. He hadn't felt this close and whole in a long time. 

 

“Besides,” he added, “no doubt my mother asked you to dress up and wants to be with you now. She needs you right now since I'm-"

 

He couldn't finish that. He wasn't ready.

 

“She misses you so much. If you change your mind, you know how to find me,” she said with pursed lips.

 

“Better than anyone else. Go.”

 

_ I'll be watching. _

 

He didn't say it out loud, but it was understood. She didn't seem to mind at all.

 

“You're not alone,” she said, letting a hand glide across his cheek. “I won't shut you out again.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

The emotion in his deeper than usual voice, the intensity in his eyes, drove Rey back slowly until she finally turned around, one last look of hope on her face.

 

After she left the room, she walked briskly through the darkness outside. She was silent, pensive. 

 

Just like him.

 

He watched. His face and eyes may have seemed far away, but he was anything but that. He was close, watching. 

 

He would  _ always  _ be watching.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!


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